Run run

Run run my little ones
over the hill they will come
the growing sea of concrete
catching up with your feet.

Fly fly my little ones
over the hill they will come
and you will have no-where to sing
and no where to bring up your kin.

Ripping the skin off Mother Nature
can you hear her scream
clawing at the heels of disaster
build faster ..faster.

I am so sorry my giant ones
over the hill they will come
cut through the rings of the years
and rip you from the earth
hurry scatter your seeds for the new birth.

In this lost field
where Nature played
so wild so free
this was her last place
a last sanctuary.

In the distance
we can see the concrete sea
look both ways
It's catching up with me.